


And this I know, his teeth as white as snow

by lindenwaverly



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindenwaverly/pseuds/lindenwaverly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank is seven. He has one friend, and she's only a maybe friend. He has two parents but they don't like spending time with him. He has a chemistry set but no one to play with. Then he meets Alex Summers, the strange new boy next door.<br/>He doesn't know Alex is going to be messing with his life for the next ten years.<br/>Rated Mature for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Explosions and Beer Bottles

Hank was seven when two very important things happened. He got his first chemistry set and the weird boy next door moved in.  
The chemistry set was beautiful, all shining glass and multi-coloured powders and knowledge. Hank had spent the day copper-plating an iron nail and making a mini-explosion using soda powder. He’d only done the explosion because his dad had been so insistent on trying to make something explode while they were playing together. That was all his dad thought of chemistry, really – that it was explosions and fire and weird smells. The second the explosion had happened his dad had apparently considered his duties as a father completed, and had ruffled his sons hair and left to do something else.  
Hank wished he could have told him the real beauty behind chemistry, but words weren’t Hank’s strong point so he just waited until his father had left and went back to methodically making a table of which things reacted with each other.  
The chemistry test was a birthday present. It was two days late, but then Hank’s dad had been travelling for work and he couldn’t exactly blame him. His dad travelled a lot, and his mum spent a lot of time redecorating the house. At the moment she was going through an all-white stage. She was aligning things in the right way for this and hanging the right crystals for that. Hank didn’t think this was very scientific.  
He wondered out into the garden, taking a break from his work. Next door, people were moving boxes in and out of the house. This was strange, because the same woman who’d always lived there was still standing outside and directing where to move things. There weren’t enough boxes for it to be a new family moving in. In fact, there were only three.  
His mother was talking to the woman – Mrs Kelleher – over the fence. Hank wondered over to see what was going on.  
“… and of course he’s very damaged by it. He’s almost completely silent, and apparently sometimes he goes into these rages and breaks everything. I just said to the social worker, what he needs is a mother’s love. He’s spent too long in this institution, brooding on things. He’s very good at football.”  
Hank’s mother nodded and scooped him up onto her hip. “Well, he’s the same age as Hank. If you want to bring him over tomorrow, we could see if they’re getting on.”  
Mrs Kelleher grinned and waggled her fingers at Hank. “How’s the super-duper-special birthday boy?”  
“My birthday was actually three days ago.”  
“Oooh,” said Mrs Kelleher in the same way that his mother spoke to the cat. “But you’re right, Hank would be a good influence on him.”  
“What’s going on, mother?”  
“Mrs Kelleher is fostering a little boy. He’s called…Alan?”  
“Alex. Alex Summers.”  
Alex Summers. It seemed a strong name in his head – Alex like Alexander the Great, Summer being gold and easy. It rolled off the tongue and into his imagination. He imagined Alex would like war strategy and games of logic. He would be strong and popular, and would persuade Sebastian Shaw, who was twelve and terrifying and lived down the end of the street, to leave him alone.  
“I want to meet him,” he declared.  
“Tomorrow at six?” suggested Ms Kelleher, and there was a rush of agreements and I-must-be-goings and Hank was carried back inside the house. He craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of Alex, but he couldn’t see him anywhere.

***

“I don’t think you should wear your lab coat, dear,” said his mother gently. It was five-thirty, and Hank couldn’t decide what to wear.  
“But what if he wants to do science!”  
“Then you can put it on. But he might want to, you know, play.”  
“Science is play.”  
“I mean he might want to roll around in the mud and things.”  
“He’s a little boy, not a warthog.”  
His mother suppressed a snort of laughter. “Some little boys do behave quite like warthogs.”  
Eventually, Hank was persuaded to remove the lab coat and stick with a little checked shirt and chinos that his mother had picked out of a very expensive catalogue. She chose all his clothes from catalogues filled with children dressed like mini-adults splashing through puddles and laughing on climbing frames. The other children in his class got to wear t-shirts with Transformers and Power Rangers on, but Hank always wore checked shirts and maroon or navy jumpers.  
Mrs Kelleher turned up a little after six – why where people always so imprecise about time, Hank wondered – and greeted his mother with affectionate kisses on the cheek. He wondered why his mother and Mrs Kelleher always kissed each other when his mother said that she was a bitch.  
“And this must be Alex.”  
The boy was standing with his back to him, so he could only see short-cropped blonde hair and the red of his hoodie. When he turned around he moved carefully, like a hunted creature. He looked angry. There was something in the air around him, something prickly and electric. Hank took a step away instinctually. His eyes reminded him of a lion’s eyes, small and sleepy and vaguely threatening. He took one look at Hank and seemed to relax slightly, as if assured instantly that this was no threat.  
Hank was shoved, alongside Alex, into the second-best room to watch a DVD – “Something normal, Hank darling, like Power Rangers, not your documentaries”. Alex immediately sat on the sofa and put a cushion over his head.  
“Hello Alex,” he said politely. There was no reply. Alex raised his middle finger at him but Hank wasn’t sure what that meant.  
“Are you ok?” he tried again. Alex still didn’t come out.  
He put power-rangers on and sat down on the tiny little bit of sofa Alex had left him. Halfway through, when the Green Power ranger finally embraced his father’s side of the family in a scene that Hank appreciated for the tender emotional pathos, Alex finally spoke.  
“Power Rangers is gay.”  
Hank raised an eyebrow. His mother had explained to him what “gay” meant and he was fairly sure none of the power rangers were gay. But saying that would be impolite.  
“Oh really?”  
“Yeah, really. And you’re gay.”  
“I’m not, actually. But if you’re gay that’s ok.”  
Alex punched him on the shoulder. “I’m not gay!”  
“Ok. Why did you hit me?” Hank was really confused and his shoulder hurt a lot but he didn’t want to cry.  
“You called me gay!”  
“I didn’t! And anyway, you called me gay and I didn’t hit you.”  
Alex punched him again, the face this time, and Hank fell to the floor. A few hot tears trickled out and burnt his cheek.  
“That’s because you’re stupid,” said Alex. “I’m in charge, and you’re going to do what I say.”  
Hank nodded tearfully.  
“Aren’t you even going to put up a fight?”  
Hank shook his head.  
“You’re really stupid and gay, you know that?”  
“Do you want me to put up a fight?”  
This question seemed to confuse Alex. He shook his head, not in a way that meant “no” but like he was trying to shake the last thing Hank has said out of his ear.  
“What do you want me to do?” asked Hank.  
“I want you to stop asking questions,” snapped Alex, and then he put his hand to his temples the way his mother did. “I want you to go and get me a drink.”  
“What do you want?”  
“I want a beer.”  
“I don’t think you can have a beer –“  
Alex stamped his foot. “The weird cow looking after me said you were clever. I want you to get me a beer.”  
***

After Hank had managed to get Alex a beer (or rather, a beer bottle that he’d filled with apple juice and told his mum was for a game), Alex ordered him to go out on the street. They sat in the sunshine and Alex drank his beer. He offered Hank a little bit, and when he drank it Alex seemed slightly more impressed with him.  
“What’s that?”  
Alex was pointing to The Hellfire Clubhouse. It was really just a tree house, but it was such a brilliant tree house that even Hank, who could never understand the appeal of sitting in a tree, was very slightly jealous.  
“It’s for the Hellfire Club.”  
“Who are they?”  
“They’re Sebastian Shaw’s club. They’re all older than ten. You can only join their club if you’re that old. That won’t even let Charles Xavier in, even though he’s nine and a bit and really clever.”  
“What do they do?”  
Hank shrugged. “They’re all mean. Sebastian Shaw is the biggest and the meanest. He hits me a lot. Actually he hits everyone a lot, but mostly mean. He’s got a girlfriend, Emma Frost. She doesn’t talk to anyone and she always, always looks unhappy. My mum says she’s a very pretty girl. She seems to know everything about everyone. Then there’s Azazel, who moves really quietly. He’s got a bicycle chain with the plastic ripped off and he creeps up on people and hits them really hard with it. And then there’s Janos Quested. I just see him riding his bike. He rides really fast. He’s painted “Riptide” along all the parts and he thinks it looks really cool.”  
“Who are your friends?”  
“I don’t really have any.”  
“But… other kids on your road, then. The same age.”  
“There’s Raven Darkholme-Xavier. She’s Charles’s little sister. She says she hates living with him because he’s really clever and he always makes her look bad. She’s a really good actress and she isn’t scared of anyone. She’s sort of my friend. But she once told me I was weird because I had bigger feet than her, so she might not be.” He pointed to the house on the opposite side of his. “That’s where Sean Cassidy is, but he’s not home a lot because he’s ill. One time he jumped off a roof and broke his ankle. Next to him on the other side is where Angel lives. She wears really nice clothes but Raven really, really doesn’t like her and I don’t know why.” He pointed down the other end of the street. “And there’s Erik Lensherr. He’s nine, like Charles. My mum says his mum shops at Lidl. She says that she same way she talks about the cat pooing on furniture, but I don’t know why. He isn’t scared of the Hellfire Club at all. They’re scared of him. One time, apparently, be beat Sebastian Shaw in a fight. He talks with a funny voice. My mum says he’s Polish.”  
Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s called an accent, stupid.” But Hank wasn’t listening. Over the crest of the hill came a terrifying figure.  
“Duck. Hide. Get back inside now.” He turned, but Alex grabbed his shoulder and refused to let him go.  
“Don’t be a baby,” he commanded.  
Sebastian Shaw stopped in front of them. Hank shut his eyes.  
“Who are you?” he commanded.  
Alex didn’t reply at first. He took a long, long sip from his beer bottle and stared Sebastian Shaw dead in the eye.  
“I’m Alex Summers.”  
“And what’s that you’re drinking?”  
“Beer.”  
“Just the one?”  
“Me and my friend Hank are sharing.” Hank blushed slightly at the compliment, and nodded vigorously.  
“Hank doesn’t have any friends,” sad Sebastian, tapping his foot.  
“He does now.”  
Sebastian seemed to mull this over.  
“Can I have a sip of beer?”  
Alex laughed at him.  
“I’m serious,” said Shaw. “I’ll let you up to the Hellfire Clubhouse if you give me some.”  
Hank’s jaw dropped.  
“But he’s only seven!” he said. Alex gave him a dirty look and he shut up.  
“Swear on your mother’s life?”  
“Swear on it.”  
Alex seemed to consider this for a second. He handed the bottle to Sebastian. Hank watched as he slowly raised the bottle to his lips and took a sip.  
Then he burst out laughing.  
“What?” said Alex, turning red. “What is it?”  
Shaw was laughing too hard to speak. He dropped the bottle and it rolled across the ground, spilling as it went.  
“You spilt my beer!” said Alex, and he kicked Shaw in the shins. Shaw just hopped away, still bent double with laughter.  
“You’re drinking apple juice….in a beer bottle…”  
“I’m not!” Alex screamed. “It’s real beer! It is!”  
“Who told you that?” said Shaw, recovering and beginning to walk away. “You just got played.” He aimed one final kick at the bottle and left them alone.  
Hank slowly began to unclench every muscle in his body, until he saw the way that Alex was looking at him and clenched up again.  
“Why was there no beer?”  
“He was lying.”  
“He wasn’t.”  
Alex was having difficulty speaking, like his lips wouldn’t stay under control. Hank took a step backwards.  
“Alex, I’m sorry.”  
Then Alex jumped on him, screaming and yelling and punching, and Hank just curled up into a ball. He’d never been beaten like this, never. Even when Shaw beat him up it was to make him hurt, not – not to just punch like punching was the point.  
There was a screaming and a yelling, and his mother and Mrs Kelleher were there and dragging Alex off, even as he punched and kicked the air.  
***

Hank didn’t see Alex again after that. For a few weeks afterwards there was lots of screaming and shouting from the Kelleher house, and paint on the walls, and things set on fire in the garden and prize rose bushes cut down, but Hank didn’t even catch a glimpse of blonde, even though he kept his eyes open for it all the time.  
The one day Mrs Kelleher came round and afterwards Hank’s mother sat him down for a “talk”.  
“Hank, have you been worrying about Alex?”  
“Yes, actually, I have. He sounds quite distressed quite frequently.”  
“I mean, have you been worrying he’s going to come round again?”  
Hank shook his head. He’d been fairly sure after the last time that Alex would never, ever come round again.  
“Well he can’t now. Mrs Kelleher… Mrs Kelleher was only looking after him for a bit, and she’s decided it all got a bit too much and he’s been sent back… back to…”  
“The orphanage.”  
His mother sighed. “They’re called children’s homes now.”  
“Like in Oliver Twist.”  
“They’re not like that anymore.”  
“Like in Tracy Beaker. She’s dumped him.”  
“You watch far too much TV,” she said, and moved away to tidy the kitchen.  
Hank wished he’d gotten Alex a real beer.


	2. Dens and New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit more jumpy, and kind of a filler chapter. Alex and Shaw will be back in the next chapter.

Hank was ten when he found out what sex was.  
“My brother watches all these videos,” said Raven. Charles Xavier was thirteen now – his birthday was a few months after Hanks – and he was, according to Raven, “beginning to turn teenage.”  
“What are they of?”  
Raven curled her mouth into one of her scary smiles. “They’re about sex.”  
Hank just stared back at her blankly. Raven rolled her eyes.  
“Come on. I’ll show you.” She climbed off down from her bunk bed and crossed her room. Raven’s room was huge, but she somehow still managed to make sure every bit was equally messy. Her parents were ridiculously rich, and ever since she’d had a screaming fit in class and hadn’t stopped crying for three days they’d spent a lot of money on her. It was a strategy she strongly encouraged Hank to try.  
She opened up her laptop – God, Hank was jealous of her laptop – and opened Google.  
“Are you just going to look up “sex”?”  
“No, idiot. That’s not how he finds them. He types in things like “hot sexy XXX videos” and stuff.” She typed in the words as she said them.  
The screen on the first video that came up didn’t look nice. Hank could just see the top of a naked woman.  
“Are you sure we should be watching this stuff?”  
“Yeah,” said Raven. “It’s fine. Hey, I could make popcorn if you like.”  
“Yes please.”  
“Ok. We’ll just watch this one first.” And before Hank could protest that he’d much rather just have popcorn, she’d clicked on it.  
***  
“We shouldn’t have watched that,” said Hank  
Raven and Hank were sitting at the breakfast bar. Charles had made it for them, coming in halfway through the video after hearing the noises and finding them covering their eyes, and therefore it was super burnt, but they were eating it anyway, chewing very fast and very hard.  
“No,” said Charles, “you shouldn’t have. Those videos are for when you’re older. And that one wasn’t even a good one.”  
Hank put a lot more popcorn in his mouth to avoid asking what the good ones were of.  
Charles sighed and ruffled his sister’s hair. “Don’t grow up too fast, by little birdy one. I need my baby sister.”  
“’M not a baby.”  
“I need by little sister, then. I’ll be so, so sad when you grow up and get teenage.”  
“But you’re teenage.”  
“I’ve been teenage since I was about five,” he said, and gave her a big hug. Hank really wished he had an older brother.  
***  
After Charles had gone – with a final warning about “not going on the internet and looking up things you don’t understand” – Raven wanted to hang out by the railway tracks.  
“Why would we go there?” said Hank, as she put on her boots.  
“Because it’s cool,” said Raven. “It’s what teenagers do. They hang out there and smoke.”  
“I don’t want to smoke.”  
“We don’t have to smoke. I just want to meet teenagers.”  
To get down to the railway tracks, they had to push through a lot of rhododendron bushes. Then they had to cross a long concrete wasteland. There were a few breezeblocks in random piles. On either side of them were the biggest buildings that Hank had ever seen. They didn’t look like houses. Just big concrete shacks with huge metal doors. The kind of buildings a bomb would be in.  
The town had once had an active station, but it had been shut down a long time ago in the fifties. The tracks were covered with nettles and brambles, but the old station rose out of the wildlife like an island, crowned with the stone building.  
“It’s empty,” said Hank, peering in the windows.  
“Who cares,” said Raven excitedly. “It’s so cool. This is our clubhouse, ok?”  
“Who else is in our club?”  
“Sean can be, when he gets out of hospital. And Angel can be if she’s nice to us. And Charles can be if he wants to be.”  
“Would he want to be in his little sister’s club?”  
“Of course. We’re close.”  
She pushed on the door and it swung open with a click. Hank gazed up at the empty rafters.  
“Woah…”  
***  
Charles definitely wanted to be part of their club once he heard where it was, and so did Angel. Sean was out of hospital for the day – he said he had to go in less now, anyway – and so they all gathered clubhouse supplies and set off.  
Charles had the great idea of using suitcases on wheels to carry the stuff there, so it only took them a few minutes to set it all up. They had mattresses all over one side of the floor, with blankets and sleeping bags and duvets. They’d put candles all along the benches, and hidden the matches under a stone. Angel hung a solar powered torch from the ceiling, and Raven donated her battery-powered cd player and everyone brought some CD’s.  
“We’ll save exploring the office for later,” said Charles. He’d quickly assumed the role of leader, which pissed off Raven no end until he’d named her second in command. Angel had demanded a role as chief of music and design – “because none of you have any taste at all” – and she’d told Sean and Hank quite firmly that they couldn’t have titles because “that would defeat the point of having titles.” Hank wasn’t particularly bothered, and Sean seemed to have impenetrable armour of general good will.  
They all snuggled underneath the blankets and passed round a packet of Oreos that Sean had bought (Sean had bought a lot of food). Angel put on some soft, chilled music and swayed to it in the middle of the cleat patch of floor.  
“It’s The Pixies,” she said dreamily. “I love this song.”  
They all curled up in each other and went to sleep. When Hank looked around just before drifting off, he thought he saw Angel and Raven dancing together to the last of the music.   
***  
He woke in the middle of the night, drenched in his own sweat. There was a hand over his mouth and he wanted to scream.  
“Shh, shh,” hissed Raven. “It’s just me. Be quiet.”  
“Why?”  
She pointed to the window. All he could see was dark on dark on dark.  
Raven’s lips moved silently. “There’s someone outside.”  
Charles stood up on shaking legs. He had a candle in a glass jar in his hand. As Hank’s eyes adjusted to the dark he saw that Angel and Sean were both crouching behind the benches. Angel was armed with a big piece of wood that had presumably fall off one of the benches. Sean, less dangerously, was wielding a back of chocolate biscuits like a sword.  
Charles advanced to the windows and peeked through, then drew back with a half-stifled shriek that set of a chorus of similar sounds around the room. Angel, irritated, shushed them.  
“Go outside, Charles.”  
“Why don’t you go outside?”  
“You’re the oldest?”  
“Well aren’t you a smart-ass,” scowled Charles. He edged towards the door.  
Just as he was about to push it open, the handle began to turn.  
Hank wanted to scream at Charles to run, but his mouth was to dry and his throat was just making these scratchy heaves. Charles stumbled back a few steps but Hank could see it was as if his legs were made of lead.  
There was a rush of cold air, and a tall, thin figure in a black coat entered. The leaves swirled around his feet as he entered with a dry rustle, and he kicked them away.  
Sean made a sort of strangled squawk, and then the figure switched on his torch and became Erik Lensherr.  
“Jesus!” said Charles, throwing the candle on the ground. “You nearly frightened us to death!”  
Erik held up his hands. “I apologise. I come here quite a lot. Today I saw there seemed to be a lot of new things in and I was curious.” He talked in a strange way, Hank noticed, like he was cutting every word with his teeth.  
Sean began to laugh hysterically, until Angel punched him to make him shut up.  
Charles suddenly seemed to find his voice. “I’m…I’m so sorry for attempting to attack you.” He looked for the candle in his hand, and then finally noticed it, rolled into one corner with a chunk missing from the glass case. “Please. Sit down.”  
Erik smiled and shook his head. “I really couldn’t interfere –“  
“You sound like my mom when she brings home here dates,” said Angel, whacking her piece of wood against one of the benches. “So unless you’re planning to have three bottles of wine and start kissing, could you both just sit down?”  
Hank remembered the video from earlier and tried to suppress a nervous giggling fit.  
Erik, it turned out, was fun. Weirdly silent and kind of intense, but he was funny and he was the only one able to get half of Charles’s jokes. Hank thought that Charles seemed relieved to have someone his own age there. None of them wanted to go to sleep anymore.   
“We should totally play truth or dare,” said Angel, flicking her hair out of her eyes.  
“But I know everything already about all of you,” complained Raven.  
“Even me?” said Erik, raising an eyebrow and half-smiling. Raven smiled back, but there was something in the set of her mouth that Hank hadn’t seen before.  
“I bet I could guess something.”  
“Go on then,” said Erik.  
Raven screwed up her face in frustration, trying to think of something.  
“You…you used to live in another country.”  
“That’s common knowledge.”  
“You… you speak another language?”  
“Wow, Sherlock,” said Erik. He seemed to have lost interest.  
“I’ll tell you something about yourself,” said Charles.  
Erik twisted his head to the side. “Something I don’t know?”  
“Something you might not know how I know.”  
Erik didn’t reply, just inclined his head slightly.  
“You play guitar. I felt your hand when you passed me the biscuits. You’ve got very hard skin on the top of your index finger on your right hand. That implies you’ve been doing something that puts a lot of pressure on that finger, and a common cause of that is playing guitar.”  
Erik smiled and felt the tip of his finger. “Very good. You’re right, I do have hard skin there. But it’s not from playing the guitar.”  
“What’s it from?” said Charles, leaning forward eagerly.  
“It’s from learning how to shoot.”  
There was a collective gasp. Erik shrugged.  
“My dad used to teach me. He said it would be useful one day. I’ve kept on practising.” There was an unsaid “since” at the end of that question, and Hank could see Charles itching to find out what it was without being insensitive.  
But Erik swiftly moved the conversation on. “Angel had a good idea. Truth or dare sounds fun. I don’t know about any of you.”  
They chose who went by spinning a bottle. Angel was the first up. She chose dare.  
“Kiss Raven!” said Sean, bouncing up and down with excitement. Erik and Charles both burst into peals of laughter.   
“What?”  
Charles didn’t answer Sean. He just looked at Erik with sly eyes. “He’s going to be a right one when he’s older, isn’t he?” Erik sniggered and nodded in response.  
“I’ll do it,” said Angel, impatient to get the attention back on her. “So long as she doesn’t chicken out.”  
Raven tossed her hair. It hit Hank in the face, but she didn’t notice. “I wouldn’t chicken out.”  
“Come over here then.”  
“No. You come over here.”  
Angel shuffled across the circle and went to kiss Raven on the lips.  
“Ew, no. Kiss me on the cheek.”  
“I knew you’d chicken out,” said Angel accusingly, but she didn’t complain. She kissed Raven on the cheek with the minimal amount of contact needed and then shuffled back to her place.  
The bottle pointed to Sean next. He chose truth.  
“Why are you always in hospital?” asked Raven, mouth full.  
Charles shot her a horrified look. “Raven -!”  
“It’s all right,” said Sean, cutting him off. “I don’t mind. I have osteogenesis, type IV. It means my bones are really brittle, and I’ve got a weird spine and weird ribs. I don’t think it’s fatal. I’m just more delicate than normal people.” He pushed his long auburn hair out of his eyes and delicately nibbled on a cookie.  
Erik was landed on next and he smiled his shark’s smile.  
“I choose truth,” he said laconically. “None of you have any idea where to dig.”  
The other five went silent, faces screwed up in concentration. Charles opened his eyes suddenly and smiled.   
“I’ve got one. Who was the last person you kissed?”  
“Well –“ Erik hesitated. “Does it count if I didn’t really want them to kiss me? I mean, I pushed them away straight afterwards.”  
“Yes.”  
“All right. But you can’t tell anyone.” Erik spoke lightly. “It was Sebastian Shaw.”  
Raven spat a mouthful of cookie crumbs everywhere.  
“What?” said Charles. Sebastian Shaw was sixteen now, and from what Raven had told Hank from Charles, he was still as popular and still as terrifying at secondary school.  
“They invite me to their parties all the time,” said Erik. “I told them I was fifteen, so they give me beer and stuff. I don’t normally go, but one time it was – one time I went. Shaw was really drunk, and then Emma left the room and it was just us and he kissed me.”  
“What did you do?” said Angel breathlessly.  
“I pushed him away,” said Erik. His voice was very blank. “I hate him.”  
“Why?” said Charles.  
“He picks on people smaller than him just because he can. I hate him. I hate him entirely.”  
There was an awkward silence. Erik and Charles were staring intently into each other eyes.  
“So are you gay?” said Raven, chewing again, and Hank sent up a silent prayer for Raven’s utter lack of tact. Erik just laughed without answering, and the game was forgotten and the conversation moved on.  
Hank noticed that Charles was still staring at Erik, though.


	3. Good Drinks and Bad Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm really sorry but this is a long one.  
> Also if you're American and don't know the British system, then British high school begins in year seven/seventh grade.  
> Sorry I didn't post for so long.

“You’re a stupid gay pathetic tosser who’s not fit to lick my cock, did you know that?”  
Hank was eleven, and was discovering that Sebastian Shaw was still not fun and was probably going to make his secondary school life hell.  
“Yes,” he said miserably from the floor of the boy’s changing rooms, “I knew that.” He’d discovered that agreeing with bullies was the best way to make them go away. From down here, he could read the graffiti scratched into the underside of the benches. Bro do u evn lift. Charls X <3 penis. Vagina.  
Secondary school was not his natural habitat.  
“You should leave him alone,” said Sean timidly from the corner. Azazel snarled at him.  
“Listen, ginger. The only reason we’re not doing the same thing to you is that the trouble we’d get into for breaking something as delicate as you would be more annoying than you’re currently being. Don’t cross that line or we might drop you and watch you shatter.” Hank saw Sean visibly shrink.  
Janos laughed. He was twirling a pencil very fast in between his fingers. “You two are pathetic, you know that? Your little girlfriends are more scary than you.”  
Hank didn’t say that it was fairly hard to be scarier than Angel and Raven, and he didn’t feel that it was a fair comparison.  
“What should we do with them?” said Azazel, swinging his chain. Hank kind of liked that Azazel had kept to chains, even if they were terrifying. It was a little bit of continuity with his seven year old self.  
Shaw shrugged, and took his foot off Hanks back. Hank took his first breath in thirty seconds.  
“Just leave them. I’ve was meant to meet Emma, like, ten minutes ago, and she’ll get all PMS-y if I hold out on her.”  
Janos tossed the pencil in the air. “Have a good time. Clean up after yourself in the caretaker’s cupboard.” Azazel sniggered.  
“Shut up,” growled Shaw, and they both stood to attention. Hank heard the sound of the door opening and closing. Slowly, he began to pick himself up.  
“Don’t start moving yet, dickhead,” said Janos, kicking him in the ribs. “Just because Shaw’s gone doesn’t mean we’re not still here.”  
“Yeah, but let’s face it,” said a new voice. “No one’s scared of you two. We all know that in the end you’re just Shaw’s little bitches.”  
There was something familiar in that voice, Hank thought. Something strong and golden.  
“What did you just call us?” said Azazel, baring his teeth. With his scraggy beard, Hank thought he looked a little bit like a wild dog.  
“I called you bitches,” said the voice.  
“And who the fuck are you?” Janos cracked his knuckles as he said this.  
“I’m Alex Summers.” Hank gasped in recognition. He noticed the expressions on the faces of the two older boys change. Something like shock. Something like fear.  
The voice continues. “Yeah, you’ve heard of me then. Now leave the stupid nerd and his princess alone or you’ll get to find out whether the reputation’s real.”  
Janos laughed, but it was shaky. “We’re not scared of some dumb year seven.”  
“Neither was James Aberworthy. Shame about his leg. I hope it heals soon.”  
Azazel shook his head. “Come on, Janos. Let’s leave the little kids to their fantasies.” They moved out of Hank’s line of vision, and he heard the door close after them. Slowly, carefully, he began to get up.  
“That was awesome!” said Sean, bouncing up and down. Alex shrugged and turned his back on him but Sean turned with him. “That was soo cool! No one ever gets rid of Janos and Azazel and then… and then you did!”  
“Yeah, whoopee,” muttered Alex.  
“I’m Sean Cassidey,” said Sean, bouncing around. “I think we’re in the same year? Do you have science next too?”  
“Listen, freak. I may have saved you from bullies, but that was an act of charity. This does not make us friends.” Alex pulled on his shirt and stomped off towards the door.  
“Bye, Alex,” called Sean timidly. Alex, pausing halfway through the door, rolled his eyes.  
“Bye Sean. Bye Hank.” The door banged after him, but Hank stayed staring at it, his eyes wide. It was only after a few seconds that he realized Sean was staring at him.  
“How did he know your name, Hank?”

 

“So he just appeared out of nowhere,” said Angel, “and saved your sorry asses, and then stomped off like a little psycho?”  
Hank was constantly impressed by Angel’s ability to do everything dismissively. Right now she was eating a chip and making Sean want to die.  
Sean bit his lip. “I don’t know where he was before.”  
“Probably hiding from Shaw,” said Raven. “Even if he wasn’t scared of the other two, Shaw’s in a whole different league.”  
“No,” said Hank instinctively. “It wasn’t like that.” He looked over to where Alex was eating on his own. The tables around him had emptied as soon as he had sat down.  
“Hey,” said Hank. “Who’s James Abernathy?”  
Angel suddenly sat up. “I knew I’d heard of Alex Summers! Um, Jake Abernathy is in year ten, I think. He was, like, trying to break into a car. Not even a nice car, apparently it was a shitty one. And then Summers went over and told him to leave it alone, and Jake laughed at him and told him to fuck off, so Summers grabs the iron that Jake was using and whacks him on the knee three times. Jake’s kneecap is utterly shattered. He’s, like, totally a psychopath.”  
“Psychopaths don’t get angry. They don’t have emotions,” said Hank, though he was pretty sure Angel didn’t give a fuck about the distinctions.  
“Oh, lord,” murmured Raven. “There he goes. Look at him.”  
They all turned to where she was looking. Charles was there, surrounded by girls. All of them looked utterly entranced by what he was saying.  
“He uses all these lame biology pick-up lines,” said Raven. “Like, telling them how rare their genes are and how they’re totally a special snowflake and how thank god this gene did that and produced such spectacular eyes or something. Or he does his whole mind-reader act, where he tells little things about them and they don’t know how.”  
“Yeah, how does he do that?” said Angel.  
“It’s all cold-reading. I mean, occasionally he does some cool Sherlock-type stuff and picks up little things about them from their clothes, but mostly he just tells them “no one understands you” and they eat it up and think he must be psychic. He’s so lucky that he’s got Erik now.”  
Hank noticed now that Erik was standing behind Charles like his warped shadow.  
“They all go over because Erik’s cute,” said Raven. “And then they realise that he’s a psychopath – and I’m using it in the correct way there, Hank – and then Charles is charming and then the whole house is full of girls who come over “just to watch a movie”.”  
“Are you getting jealous…over your brother?” said Angel. “Because that is totally fucked up.”  
Raven rolled her eyes. “I’m just pissed off that my house is suddenly filled with giggling teenage girls, that’s all.” Hank could see a fight brewing. He could see the poison forming in Angel’s mouth and the hard set in Raven’s jaw.  
“I’m going to get some chips,” he said, and fled the table, hoping to take the topic with him.  


“So about earlier today…”  
Hank and Raven were sitting on opposite ends of her bed, legs entwined.  
“Which bit?” said Raven lazily.  
“When we were watching Charles.” Raven bit her lip and stared at her fingernails. Her eyes were hidden by her fringe.  
“You ever had anyone, Hank?”  
“What?”  
“Someone who belonged to you.” She still wasn’t looking at him. “Someone you belonged to.”  
Hank tried hard to find the energy to shake his head but he couldn’t because a hole had opened up somewhere in his chest.  
“Charles is like that for me,” she said quietly. “His birth was a mistake. My adoption was a mistake. Our parents are like poltergeists. We only know they’re there because we come down in the morning and there’s a smell of wine and perfume and broken glasses on the floor. We’re all we have, the two of us, and if he falls in love with someone then,” – she huffed out a laugh – “Then that’s me fucked, isn’t it?”  
Hank reached over and took her hand. “You’ve got me,” he told her.  
“It’s not the same.”  
“I know. But one day you meet need a substitute.”  
Just then, Charles knocked on the door, and Hank sent a silent prayer up to the gods of good timing.  
“Raven, your little Angel is here and she seems very, very excited.”  
Angel was bouncing up and down on her hands, sitting in the hall. She stopped bouncing as Erik strode by, casting a dismissive glance at her.  
“Guess guess guess where I just got us invited to.”  
“I’m going to guess it’s a party,” said Hank blandly.  
Angel rolled her eyes. “No, Hank, I got us invited to a fucking lecture. Yes, of course it’s a party.”  
“Who’s?”  
Angel glanced round the hall, then dropped her voice. “Emma Frost’s.”  
She waited for the reaction that wasn’t coming.  
“How…how did you get invited?” said Hank, realising that Raven, for once in her life, had nothing to say. “You’re only a year seven.”  
“I told him I was a year nine.”  
“Who?”  
“Bobby Drake.”  
“The Christian kid? Are you kidding me?”  
“Yeah. He’s leaving next year. He’s really cute. I told him me and my year nine friends wanted to go to a party, and he told me about this one and photocopied his invite so we could get in. And I persuaded Erik to take us.”  
“Sebastian Shaw will be there,” said Hank flatly.  
“He’s not going to care about a few kids in the corner. He’ll be too busy getting off with Emma.”  
Hank bit his lip and tried to quell the shaking in his stomach that came with the memory of Sebastian Shaw. It only took him a few seconds and suddenly he was nine again and there was a bitter taste in his mouth and darkness in his head. Shaw had his head in the dirt.  
“Do you know what you are?”  
That voice. Rusty and confident, the mouth so close he could almost feel the physical texture of the words.  
He shook his head to clear himself of those thoughts and focused back on Angel.  
“When is it?”  
“I told you, dumbass. Friday. Tomorrow. You have two days to attempt to find something cool in your wardrobe.”  
“Wait, I’m invited?”  
“Yeah?”  
“I assumed it was just you and Raven.”  
“Why wouldn’t you be coming?”  
“Because I’m the sort of person who has to be reminded to get cool clothes?”  
Angel giggled sweetly into her hand. He didn’t understand how such a nice laugh could belong to the sort of person whose fictional role model was a stripper with an AK47 for a leg.

 

Hank had sort of expected Angel to be happy and nice and exited on Friday night. This was probably a bit naive.  
“Did you just ignore what I said to you about clothes, Hank?”  
Hank shuffled uncomfortably. “I sort of thought I could pull of dorky cool?”  
“You got halfway there. Unfortunately not the cool half.” Hank was dressed in jeans – not skinny jeans, because of course he didn’t own anything vaguely hipster and cool, just what Angel referred to as “boyfriend” jeans which he found unamusingly ironic – and a button down white shirt.  
“And Sean,” she said, spinning on the balls of her feet. “That top has got to go.”  
Sean looked bemusedly down at his purple 420 top. “Why?”  
“Because I know for a fact that you have never smoked weed in your entire life.”  
“Which bit should I change?” said Hank, trying to deflect Angel’s fire away from poor Sean.  
“All of it. And hurry up. Erik will be here in a minute.”  
“I’ll help you, Hank,” said Raven wearily. She was dressed in skinny jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a dark blue biker jacket with little studs on that made it look almost reptilian, but not quite. It was like she was wearing the skin of some alien she’d captured, Hank thought, and then instantly wondered why his brain was so weird. Angel was dressed in tiny, tiny black dress with no back, and knee high leather boots. Hank glanced over his shoulder as he walked upstairs to see her turn her death glare on Sean again as he visibly shrunk into the wall.  
“What does she want from me?”  
“Calm down,” said Raven. “She just wants you to look cool. She said to me earlier that you’re probably our best asset.”  
“What?”  
“As in she wants you to be good looking so that you attract the cool girls over and she can make friends with them once they realise you’re a dork.”  
“Right. And she thinks they’re going to think I’m hot because…?”  
“Because you are hot, doofus. Hey.” She pulled out a pair of skinny grey chinos. “Put these on.”  
“Are you kidding me?”  
“No. In a purely platonic, I’ve-known-you-since-you-were-knee-high way, you have the best ass ever. Work it, girl. I mean boy.”  
“Couldn’t I hide in the bathroom and feel awkward?”  
“I’m going to teach you to have fun if it kills me.”  
A sudden, terrifying thought dawned on Hank. “Hey, I won’t have to drink alcohol, will I?”  
Raven raised an eyebrow. “Um, yeah. It’s a party. That’s what you do.”  
“I miss primary school parties.”  
“No you don’t. You hated them too. You know, if you actually knew what cool was, you’d realise you have quite a cool wardrobe already.”  
“I do?”  
“Yeah. All the granny jumpers and button-down shirts. You’re kind of a hipster without realising it.”  
Hank wasn’t sure if it was good that he was cool or bad that he’d only managed to be cool by accident.  
He pulled on the clothes that Raven picked out for him, and rushed downstairs when he heard Erik pull up outside. Erik’s car was terrifyingly fragile looking. Hank could swear he could see it wobbling on the wheels. But Erik was also terrifying, and impatient, and giving him a stare that got icier the longer that Hank waited outside the car. He slid in next to Sean, and prepared to adopt the brace position.  
Erik drove, as Erik did everything else in life, as if he hated everyone. Miraculously, despite Sean gripping him tighter than he’d ever wanted to be gripped by anyone, they arrived at the party in one piece.  
Shaw’s party wasn’t taking place at Shaw’s house, otherwise they could have walked. Instead, he’d hired the local country club building. It was just beginning to get dark, and every window was lit up red and blue. Inside, Hank could hear the sound of pounding house music. His head was beginning to hurt.  
Erik shifted in the driver’s seat. “I’m going to leave at one. If you aren’t at the car when I leave, then I’m leaving you here. Don’t talk to me. Don’t tell anyone I brought you. I only took you because I have a vague desire to piss of Shaw, but not enough to actually want to get called out on it. Plus, at the moment I’m thought of as a psychopath, which is a useful image when you don’t want people to talk to you. Bringing year sevens to a party doesn’t exactly fit that. If anyone asks you how you got here, tell them John Allerdyce took you.”  
“Who?”  
“He’s an ugly kid in my year. He’ll go along with it if it causes a big drama.” He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t bother to lock it, but Hank guessed most people would be too scared to steal Erik’s car.  
The four of them got out. In the face of the actual party, even Angel’s bravado seemed to have faltered. Raven was still herself, though. God, he was grateful for her friendship.  
Unconsciously, they all looped arms around each other’s waists or clasped hands or linked arms, a little chain of friendship, and advanced towards the door.  
“Angel!” said a loud voice, and Bobby Drake, cheeks flushed, was upon Angel, pulling her into a hug. He was obviously pretty drunk, but seemed entirely innocent. He nodded cheerfully as Angel introduced each of them.  
“This is John,” he said, pointing to an aggressively pug-faced boy. He was wearing both ripped jeans and a ripped t-shirt, which Hank was maybe taking it a bit far. Somehow, he’d even managed to rip the tongues of his Converse in the middle. He nodded at Angel, who flipped her hair and gave him her cutest smile up from under her eyelashes.  
They found a room which was mostly unoccupied except for a mysteriously shifting sleeping bag in the corner, and huddled together on two tiny sofas. John, Angel and Sean on one, Hank, Raven and Bobby on the other.  
John pulled out a bottle of vodka and passed it around. The music was too loud for them to talk properly but they spoke anyway – well, listened to Raven and Bobby talk and occasionally drag the rest of them into it. Raven was a born conversationalist; Bobby was just friendly in the general way that puppies are friendly. Hank could feel his head beginning to swim from the drink and the low light and the music.  
Angel’s hand was creeping up John’s thigh, but when he looked at John’s face he was looking at him, eyes dead and half-lidded. Hank turned away, blushing. He probably thought Hank was perving, trying to watch them get off.  
A girl Hank half recognised – Catty? Kitty? – had joined them at Bobby’s feet without him noticing. He suddenly realised how slow his movements had become. Kitty handed him something that looked like a cigarette and he passed it straight to Raven, shaking his head in wide swings that made him feel dizzy and nauseous. When had he lost control of his body? When had all his movements gotten so big?  
Raven took one drag, made a face, and shook her head quickly. John gave a quiet chuckle, but Kitty and Bobby shot him a dirty glare. Hank smiled at them. He was sure that if he spoke he’d made a tit of himself, but he wanted to let them know that he was grateful. Kitty just looked worried. He guessed his face wasn’t as friendly as he’d planned to make it.  
Raven took his hand and pulled him up, out into the hall where there was normal lighting and air that wasn’t too hot and strangely sweet. He took a deep breath, feeling it cut through the fuzz in his brain.  
“Good you didn’t smoke, Raven. No smoking. It’s bad for birds.”  
“Hank, you’re too drunk.”  
“Why are they sharing a cigarette?”  
“Hank, that’s a joint.”  
“What?”  
“That’s weed.”  
“What?”  
“Oh my god. Cannabis, Hank, Cannabis.”  
Hank shot upright and tried to stumble back into the room. Raven yanked him back by the collar.  
“Don’t leave me alone at this party!”  
“We’ve got to save Angel and Sean from the drugs!”  
“I don’t think they want to be saved…”  
“They’ll overdose! And be homeless!”  
“Are Kitty and Bobby homeless?”  
“No, but they might be dead.”  
“You just saw them.”  
“They might be dead by now.”  
“Hank.” She pulled him outside. He knew, theoretically, that it was freezing, but he couldn’t feel anything. He wiggled his fingers in front of his face, marvelling at the way they were so numb.  
“My fingers don’t feel attached to me.”  
“You are never ever getting drunk again.”  
“I’m going to get drunk every day. This is amazing. Raven, why didn’t I get drunk before?”  
Raven sat him down on the step and snuggled up next to him, putting her arm around him. He waved her away.  
“You’re not having fun.”  
“Hank, it’s my job to look after you.”  
“No, no ‘ts not. Go have fun. You like parties.” She bit her lip. “I’ll come find you when ‘m better, k? Fun. Go.”  
Raven squeezed his shoulder and left him on the step, which was suddenly a lot darker than he remembered. He shivered violently, so hard it felt like his spine was cracking. Why was he shivering so hard? He wasn’t cold. He wasn’t scared. Was he scared?  
Suddenly, Hank was very, very scared. His teeth began to chatter. He could hear a low keening noise coming from the bushes around. There were footsteps coming closer. The keening noise was getting louder, and transformed into a high wail. Hank wanted to cry but his throat wasn’t working. There was someone behind him, but he couldn’t feel their body heat. Oh god. They were dead. He was going to die.  
A jacket was dropped around his shoulders.  
“How many times am I going to have to save your sorry ass,” said Alex Summers, sitting down next to him and lighting up a cigarette. He looked around, confused, and then stared at Hank as if he’d smelt something odd on him. “Why are you making that noise?”  
Hank shut his mouth, and the wail stopped.  
“Thought it was someone else.”  
Alex’s mouth twitched in a way that might have symbolised amusement, but could just as easily been a suppressed cough. “Music’s shit, innit?”  
“Yeah,” said Hank.  
“What do you like?”  
Hank’s brain went blank. “Um…”  
“It’s cool. I probably don’t care about your answer anyway. Just thought you might feel awkward if we were silent, but obviously it’s making it worse.”  
“Sorry.”  
Alex just rolled his eyes.  
“Thanks.”  
This time Alex looked at him out of the corner of his eye. They were cold and flat.  
“Why’d you beat up Jake Abernathy?”  
“He was stealing a car.”  
“Why’d you care?”  
“I didn’t. He’s just a stupid shit head.” He curled his lip. “Why are you so curious anyway? Since when’s it been any of your business?”  
“Sorry.”  
“Stop fucking apologising.”  
“Sorry.”  
“Are you trying to get hit?”  
“No, sorr – No.”  
There was a long pause in the conversation. He wondered if he should mention to Alex that they’d met when he was seven, and that he was sorry he hadn’t given him a real beer, and he thought Ms Kelleher was a really horrible person and he was better off without her, but he didn’t know if Alex would remember it.  
He looked at Alex closely. He had shaggy hair that brushed his ears. Under it, he looked more lion-like than ever, sheltering beneath his mane. Not regal, though. Just wary.  
“How come you got invited?”  
Alex raised an eyebrow.  
“I mean, my friends had to pretend to be older than they actually were. I was wondering if it was the same with you.”  
Alex shook his head. “Shaw invited me after he heard from Janos and Azazel how I’d scared them off. Guess he likes drama.” He looked at him again, and Hank felt like the layers were being peeled back, revealing something raw and nasty and not Hank at all inside.  
“Are you doing the whole hipster thing?”  
Hank wasn’t entirely sure what a hipster was, but he just nodded. “Yeah.”  
Alex scoffed. “Gay. Hey, I have some blueberry vodka in my bag. Do you want some?”  


“RAVEN!”  
God, everyone at this party was so pretty.  
Raven was dancing in the corner with Bobby. When she saw him her eyes went very very wide and she said something but Hank didn’t here because the lights were changing colour and he was trying to work out if there was a pattern to what colour they went next.  
“….going home…”  
Hank pulled away from her and shook his head again. Head shaking was fun. Left. Right.  
“Yes. Wait outside.”  
“I’m having fun.”  
There was an arm on his shoulder. “I’ll look after him.” Raven looked grateful. He turned and found himself face level with a ripped t-shirt.  
Raven looked worried. “I don’t mind….”  
“Serious. It’s fine.”  
John, his hand on the back of Hank’s neck, dragged him outside. There were wide fire pits, and people sitting around them, drinks in hands, laughing aggressively and jabbing the air with their little toasting sticks. It was too hot. The air smelt of puke. This was what hell was like. Fire and sick and fake laughter.  
John steered him back towards one of the far fire pits. Angel was there, and so was Kitty and – oh god.  
“Hank?” said Charles. “What are you doing here?”  
Hank swallowed and tried to give him his biggest, brightest smile.  
“That’s not an answer –“  
“I took them.”  
Erik appeared at Charles’s shoulder.  
“They begged me to.”  
Charles had turned very, very pale.  
“Including my sister?”  
Erik nodded. He didn’t have an expression exactly, but his features had shifted in a way that could have been interpreted as regret.  
Charles’s lips were very, very tight. “Hank, I expected that Angel had snuck in, but you –“  
“It’s Hank,” interrupted Erik. “Do you really think he wanted to come?”  
“Don’t you talk to me. Not now. Not you. Christ, just when I thought you were done hurting me for the night –“  
“You’re over-reacting about earlier –“  
“I am not over-reacting!”  
Hank quietly eased out from John’s hand on his shoulder.  
“For god’s sake, Charles, do you have to do this here?”  
“Why not?”  
“You might drive away your vast army of female fans, for one.” Kitty, who had been on the verge of intervening, gasped. Erik shot her a dirty look. “You might upset the children, for another. Though looking at Angel –“  
“Where is Angel?” said Kitty.  
Hank looked very hard at the spot that Angel had been, but she stayed gone.  


“Excuse me,” said Raven, one hand wrapped around Hank’s wrist, the other tapping on people’s arms. “Have you seen our friend? Short girl, black dress, big black hair?” Everyone was shaking their heads and shrugging, brushing her off their arms like dirt.  
“We’ve got to go,” said Sean, dancing round the guests as he tried not to get knocked over. “Erik’s leaving in ten minutes.”  
“We can’t leave Angel!”  
“I’ll find Angel.” Charles wiped a hand across his forehead. “For god’s sake, just go home.”  
“But –“  
“GO!” He breathed deeply. “I promise you, I’ll find Angel. I won’t stop until I’ve found her.”  
We’ll help.” Kitty appeared at his shoulder, and gestured to John, who was flicking a lighter on and off in his hands, and Bobby, who was staring in the floor in shame. “I’m sorry, Raven. Bobby here should be more responsible.”  
“It’s not his fault,” said Charles. “Angel could charm the halo off her namesake.”  
Hank wanted to shout at them that none of them could stop Angel, not when Angel wanted to be stopped, that maybe they couldn’t stop her either but they could try harder, try better. His heart was hitting against his chest. The heart is a muscle the size of your fist and sometimes Hank could really, really feel that.  
He was in the car. He was in Erik’s car. There was screaming coming from inside the house. Was it music? Was it sirens? No, definitely screams. Raven was in the front seat and she was gripping Erik’s hand and he was letting her. Sean had his arms around Hanks back, face in his shoulder, staring up at the house like a frightened rabbit.  
Hank got to “Need to –“  
Then the car pulled away.  


“You’re an idiot.”  
It was four in the morning. Hank missed vodka.  
“You’re an absolute idiot.” Erik paced back and forth. Angel was curled up in a blanket on the armchair, her hair over her face. She looked like she’d been crying. Charles sat in the armchair opposite her, scrutinising her.  
Hank and Raven and Sean were still in trouble, Charles had told them that, but he guessed it would get lost in the vast amount of trouble Angel was in. Somehow that didn’t make him feel better.  
“So Sebastian Shaw tells you to take off your clothes and let him film you while you dance and you… you don’t even think about it?”  
Angel pulled more hair in front of her face.  
“It’s not her fault, Erik. The girl was taken advantage of.”  
“For god’s sake, Charles, common sense –“  
“Maybe if someone hadn’t taken a bunch of year sevens to a party and let them get drunk and high for the first time –“  
“Maybe if –“  
“Will he be ok?”  
Angel’s voice was small and scratchy.  
“The boy who came and saved me. Will he be ok?”  
Charles nodded. “His name’s Darwin. He’s…he’s going to be ok. He’s lucky he had his own knight in shining armour to rescue him from Azazel. Alex –“  
Hank’s ears pricked up. “Alex Summers?”  
“…Yes. Why?”  
“Nothing. I just….nothing.”  
“He saved us the other day,” said Sean. “From Azazel. In the changing rooms.”  
Erik scoffed. “Maybe he’s not the violent psychopath everyone makes him out to be.”  
“He’s definitely violent, at any rate. He went after him with –“  
“Yes, yes, not now.”  
Hank’s fingers were curling into the sideboard and he was dying for details.  
Charles sighed. “Go to bed. All of you.”  
“You’re not going to tell me mum, are you?” squeaked Sean.  
“No. No one’s parents are getting told. Just go.”  
They tripped off up the stairs, Angel first, Sean supporting her from behind. Hank went to follow him, but Raven grabbed his wrist and held him back. She pressed her ear to the door from the kitchen to the stairs.  
“Legally, he hasn’t got a leg to stand on. If he sends it round school, he’s distributing child pornography. His only option is to delete –“  
“Do you think Shaw gives a fuck about “legally”, Charles?”  
“What do you suggest we do?”  
“Beat the shit out of him before he’s got a chance to hand it on.”  
“And end up with all his little mates and everyone who’d like to be a little mate of his after us?”  
“I’m thinking ski masks and tyre jacks.”  
“Be serious.”  
“I’ve never been more.”  
There was a long silence which sounded like glaring.  
“Imagine if it had been Raven, Charles. You’d be there. You’d be right next to me, setting his house on fire and breaking his legs.”  
“You’re right. I’d be all fired up for it. If it was Raven, I’d be utterly prepared to smash his skull in. But you know what? I’d hold myself back. I just wouldn’t.” He paused. “I’ll talk to Shaw tomorrow. We’re just as rich as he is. Let him know that if he sends it to anyone, my family is going to pay for Angel’s lawyer and we are going to bring it.”  
“It doesn’t matter if he sends it round. It doesn’t matter about the actual video. People just need to know it exists.”  
“How could he have mistaken her for a year ten, Erik?”  
“He didn’t,” whispered Hank, cheek pressed against the wall. Raven put a finger on his lips.  
“I don’t know. Worse things have happened to people in our year, Erik. They grew out of those events.”  
“But not the reputation it gave them. John Allerdyce likes matches, and accidently sets one girls ponytail on fire. Now he’s never seen without his lighter and his eternal black cloud. In a few years, that Summers boy won’t be hitting to save anyone. He’ll just be hitting. People grow to fit their reputations, Charles. You and me should know that most of all.”  
There was a very, very long pause. After watching his parent’s marriage, Hank was adapt at reading silences. This one wasn’t tense, just embarrassed and slightly sad.  
“Are we really going to talk about this now?” Charles’s voice sounded like it was cracking.  
“You wanted to earlier.  
“I was….Christ, Erik, I was drunk.”  
“Which bit are you talking about now? The bit where you were shouting about it or the bit where…”  
There was a long pause, and Charles’s laughter. “God, I didn’t know you could get embarrassed.”  
“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I do have emotions. Occasionally.” Hank heard the sound of Erik getting up. “I’m going home.”  
“You can stay the night.”  
“I know. But I’m going home, Charles, and I might not want to talk to you tomorrow.”  
“They day after?”  
“We’ll see.” Hank imagined from his voice that his mouth had curled up in a small sad smile.  
Charles was coming towards the stairs and Raven pulled him up to the bedroom. Lying under the blankets, with Sean tossing and turning and Raven digging her fingers into her palms as she got chsnged the small lump that was Angel, Hank wondered why there were so many small, sad things.


	4. Cuba and Human Mating Rituals

CHAPTER 5

“Slut!”  
“Hey, I heard you dance like your mum!”  
“It was two years ago!” yelled Angel. “Get over it already!”  
They were in year nine. Shaw was long gone, and all his remaining gang – Azazel, Janos and Emma – were drifting towards graduation. Azazel and Janos still scowled at kids in the corridor, but they didn’t seem to derive much pleasure from it. No one had to be scared of them anymore. Of course, people still had to be scared, but not of them.  
Raven touched the bruise on Hank’s cheek.   
“Who was it?”  
Hank just shook his head.  
“Come on.”  
“It wasn’t Summers.”   
“I don’t care who it wasn’t, I care who it was.”  
“…It was some year eights. They were trying to impress him. They punched me.”  
“Did he do anything?”  
He shook his head again. Raven dropped her hand from his cheek, and he couldn’t help feel that she was disappointed in him.  
“Hey, we’ve got a new student teacher in our class,” said Sean, trying to lighten the mood. Angel was hiding under her hair again, shooting looks like daggers and tapping her huge spiky ring against the locker. “Guess who it is?”  
“I don’t care if it’s fucking Jesus Christ,” muttered Angel.  
“You know,” said Raven, “a girl with your name really shouldn’t talk like that.”  
“It’s Kitty Pryde!” said Sean, waving his arms slowly. Sean still waved his arms around when he spoke, but it didn’t look excitable and hyperactive anymore, just slow and sluggish. “We have to call her Miss Pryde now.”  
“Which class does she shadow you in?” said Hank.  
“Art.” Sean smiled happily. “We’re doing finger painting today.”  
“Finger painting? Are you fucking kidding me?”  
“Angel,” scolded Raven.  
“It’s cool,” said Sean. “The paint feels nice beneath your fingers.”  
“Sean, are you high again?”  
“Raven, Maven, you’re wanton and craven.”  
“Sean, tell me the truth.”  
He smiled broadly and made a small gap between his fingers.  
“Sean!”  
“Whatttt. I do good work and stuff. I’m really really clever when I’m high. Ask me a maths question. Go on. Ask me.”  
“What’s twelve times shut the fuck up.”  
“Angel!”  
Hank liked to play a game. It was called “see how long Hank can go without speaking before someone notices”. His current record was three straight days, only broken when his mum demanded that he stop being to impolite, and why wasn’t he saying please and thank you?  
They sat in a row in art. It turned out the lesson was not finger painting, just “creative responses to your feelings.” They were meant to draw a “picture of their inner world.”  
“I don’t have an inner world,” said Sean. “I have a dragon.”  
“Does the dragon have an inner world?” whispered Hank. Sean furrowed his brow. He wasn’t sure if this showed he was thinking, or whether Sean was just pulling a face again.  
“You can do whatever you want!” enthused Kitty – sorry, Miss Pryde.  
“Can we finger paint?”  
She stared at Sean and, deciding he was obviously joking, just ignored him.  
Sean did finger paint, something that was apparently a dragon, but according to Raven looked more like “Picasso tried to mate with a supernova.”  
“What the fuck does my inner world look like?” Angel shook her head at the paper in disgust.  
“Like a mace made out of glitter and puppies blood.”   
“Thanks Raven. Yours is probably that blue snakeskin jacket because you never fucking take it off.”  
“See, I’m trying to think of an item of clothing you never take off, but you take off all of them at the drop of a hat.”  
Listening to Raven and Angel spar was like watching people play fight on a high wire. No one was seriously getting hurt, but it could all fall and collapse at any minute. He supposed this was just their way of communicating affection.  
Hank had no idea what his inner world looked like. Hank wasn’t sure that he had an inner world.  
He looked across, as he often did, to Alex Summers. He’d been put on a solitary desk in the corner of the classroom. Every time he was allowed to move back to the tables, he did something exceptionally stupid and got instantly moved back. It was almost like he liked it. At the moment, he was utterly ignoring the piece of paper and was just stabbing the desk with a pair of scissors.  
“Hank? Earth to Hank? What are you drawing?”  
“Um…me?”  
Kitty Pryde stopped at the table next to Alex. She hesitated, halfway between staying and going.  
“I’m…probably drawing...”  
Alex suddenly snapped his neck around and glared at her, and she nearly dropped the paint pot she was holding. He was too far away to clearly see the colour of his eyes but Hank imagined them burning gold, ancient and wary and young and raw, lion eyes.  
“… a square. I’m probably drawing a square.”  
His friends burst into bright peals of laughter.   
“Today, class,” cried Mr Harly, atop the table with a ruler sword in hand. “Today we take Cuba!”  
History lessons with Mr Harly were intensely fucked up.  
The bruise was still hurting. Every time Hank moved his face it burned, and then he winced at it hurt again.   
“You, historians and historianesses – “ Harly nudged Raven, a known feminist, in the ribs, and Hank chuckled as she mock-bristled – “will be in pairs – set pairs, don’t groan – and will give me a presentation on one success of Kennedy’s presidency. Right, quick step. Raven and Jocelyn, Sean and Amanda, Louie and Camilla, Sarah and Bernie, Tom and Angel….”  
Hank poked at the chewing gum stuck to the edge of the table with his ruler.  
“…Hank and Alex.”   
He nearly smacked the ruler into his arm. Alex. Alex Summers, boy of summer, lion.   
Alex glared up at him. He didn’t have short hair to shelter under now, and his eyes hit Hank with full force. When he rolled his shoulders Hank couldn’t help but imagine the muscle weight behind them. He wondered what it would be like to have that strength. It probably affected the way you walked, the way you spoke, the way you thought, knowing that at any moment you could lash out and that your body would not fail you.   
“Please get into your pairs and find out how you’re planning to finish this project, because you need to have it in for next Monday. Which means work! On the weekend! I know! Christ, maybe you’ll have to get up before two, though I know that won’t give you adequate energy to go clubbing all night…”  
“Shut up,” said Alex, sliding into the seat next to him before Hank had an adequate grasp of what was going on. He flinched in surprise. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been talking.  
“Not you. Him.” He nodded his head towards Mr Harly.   
Hank nodded and kept looking at Alex’s cheek, his chin, his neck, anywhere but his mouth or, oh god, his eyes.   
They weren’t speaking. Alex was across from him, staring murderously at some point in the table. Hank adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.  
“So, um, how are we going to get this done? I mean, unless you want me to do it because I really don’t have a problem – I mean, not that I think – ”  
Alex didn’t reply. He’d have to take the initiative.   
“You know the café across the road? It’s fairly empty. If you meet me there I’ll take you through this and we can work out what we’re going to do.”  
Alex kept on staring at him, then slowly nodded. Not an “Ok, that sounds great,” nod, but an “I have absorbed what you just said,” nod. Hank tried not to sigh. At least he’d gotten a reply. Sort of.  
“Ok. After school?”  
Alex looked away from him, out of the window. It was clear what he had just said wasn’t even worthy of attention. Hank wondered what he thought about. Maybe he didn’t think, didn’t need to, just knew with instinctive grace and strength how to react to every situation and relied on pure gut instinct.  
No. Stop romanticising, Hank. He was probably thinking about boobs.  
“I’ll meet you at four.” The “firm” voice he’d been putting on was wavering around the edges, and he swallowed hard. “I’ll wait until five. If you haven’t shown up by then, I’ll leave.”

 

He waited until six and the sky was bruising and heavy.   
He was just pulling his coat on when Alex dropped into the seat opposite him with such suddenness it nearly made him jump. Nearly. Alex pushed a coffee across to him in what he supposed was an apology gesture. Then again, it might be that Alex was just utterly unaware of time.  
“Right. We got the easy one – the Cuban Missile Crisis. Do you know what that was?”  
Alex drummed his fingers on the table and moved his shoulders the minimal amount to constitute a shrug.  
“The Russians – you know about the Cold war?” No response, so he soldiered on. “The Russians wanted to put some missiles on Cuba, right next to America. President Kennedy told them if they crossed a certain line around Cuba then Russia and America would officially be at war.” He swallowed. “This would have led to the mutual destruction of both countries.”  
“Why did they want to fight?”  
The sound of his voice sent made his throat tighten suddenly.  
“Ideological differences.” Those burning eyes didn’t change. “Russia was communist, America was capitalist. There was no way they could ever understand each other.”  
The eyes seemed to soften slightly, lose a touch of sharpness. He supposed the question was answered.  
“So we need to make a presentation. Do you, um…”  
He looked down at his hands. He didn’t know why. It was just something he’d read about in books and seen in movies – characters looking down at their hands and realising a truth about themselves.  
“I’ll do the talking.”   
Hank breathed a sigh of relief. It was a beat or two later that he realised he should have smiled, and he almost did till he thought that maybe that was too late and now it would just look weird. He dampened the grin, perhaps too hard. Alex was looking at him searchingly, trying to figure out what was happening on his face, and he tried smiling again but he was all nerves.  
He was saved from further embarrassing himself by having someone else do it for him.  
“Hank! HankHankHankHank!”  
There was Sean, tripping over the chairs and his words, his arms waving again, and he felt his heart become suddenly heavy in his chest. Sean was ok when he was the sort of high he got at school, a high that just left him soft and vague, but now he was at the point where he’d have nonsense rolling of his tongue, claiming it was poetry, and Hank would have to sit there and hold his hand through the whole thing or Sean would bugger off and find someone like John Allerdyce – who was still hanging around the town, making everyone slightly nervous – who’d vaguely listen to him and give him more. Only Raven seemed to know how to deal with him at these times.  
“Hank, Hank, Hank, I’ve been chanting in Latin.”  
“You don’t talk Latin.”  
“I’ve rediscovered it. I’ve re-invented it. We should recreate language so that it’s nicer and better and clearer and no one feels awkward anymore. My body is all stiff, Hank.”  
“Hey, hey, it’s ok.”  
“No it’s not. There’s something wrong. I think something’s wrong with me.”  
“Is he high?” said Alex. Hank bit his lip and tried to work out whether making the mess that was Sean and the mess that was Alex collide was a good idea or not. “Are you high, Sean?”   
Sean nodded. He’d stopped babbling, and just gazed sideways at Alex.  
“You know what to do, don’t you?”  
Hank nodded, and then shook his head.  
“He’s having a paranoid freak out. Tell him to breathe.”  
“Um, breathe, Sean, breathe.”  
Alex stood up and took Sean’s wrist in his hand, and he tried to ignore the little flash of jealousy that ignited in his chest and pretend he wasn’t imagining how it would feel to have his wrist encased in a grip like that. He pulled Sean out onto the pavement.  
“Is your house anywhere near here?”  
“He…he can’t go back to my house.”  
“He just needs to go to sleep.” Alex sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on.”  
He dragged Sean down a tiny ally a few buildings away from the café, and Hank followed, unsure whether he should object more strongly to having his best friend kidnapped by a violent thug while very, very high. He followed them up a flight of rickety metal stairs, then into a tiny, dingy apartment – no, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t dingy, it was just that all the curtains were drawn, and the light that shone through was tinged red by the material and gave the place a kind of oven look.  
“Is this where you live?” asked Hank. Alex just shot him a vaguely disgusted look and shouted into the apartment.  
“Darwin!”  
A boy Hank vaguely recognised emerged from behind a bead curtain, and it took him a few moments to place him as –   
“Oh. You’re the one who – “ He stammered over the words. Darwin raised an eyebrow.  
“Who what?”  
“Saved Angel.”  
Darwin gave him a half-smile. “Yeah. And then had to leave school before Shaw turned my life into hell.” He softly nudged Alex in the ribs. “This nutcase stayed, however.”  
“Thanks,” Hank murmured, though he supposed he was two years late.  
“Can this nutcase crash on your sofa until he’s slept off his paranoia?” Alex wasn’t the Alex he knew, all muscles and tension and stares. This Alex looked just mildly reckless rather than dangerous, and his face looked like it actually had the capacity to smile.   
Sean was settled on the coach with blankets and a pillow. Hank just hung around uselessly, of course, murmuring a string of half-heard thanks and apologies. Where was Raven? He couldn’t meet new people without Raven, or at least Angel to make them go away when it was all too much. Alex raised an eyebrow at him and gestured for him to follow behind the little bead curtain. He found himself in a bedroom full of the same red-tinged light as the other room. The floor was utterly covered in clothes and books, and in the dark he moved slowly, careful not to trip over his feet. The only thing he could see clearly were the fish swimming in an aquarium, lit up so bright against the perma-twilight that it made Hank want to shield his eyes. The light bouncing off it made the air look liquid and the light move in lazy hypnotic patterns against the wall. The air smelt of clove and tobacco and something like mint. In the background something with lazy vocals and – Christ, a sitar – was playing.  
Alex and Darwin were sprawled out across the bed – really just a mattress on the floor. In the dark, they looked like half-shadows, negatives of themselves on red paper. Alex had shrugged his jacket off, and one of his shoulders was falling out of his t-shirt. The dips of his collarbone swum and lost meaning, reduced to a pattern of shadow and light. He leant against the wall and just looked at Hank – not a searching look, just a look that showed he’d expected him. Darwin was pulling off his t-shirt, and his body as all hard planes of muscle. He perched down nervously at the edge of the mattress, avoiding Darwin’s feet.  
“Um, thanks –“  
“Don’t worry about it. So long as he’s ok in an hour it’s all fine. I just… don’t want my mum coming back to some tripping ginger spilling bullshit all over the coach.”  
Hank nodded. Darwin gave him another wide grin. “Don’t look so uncomfortable, man. I know Summers looks like he’s going to eat you, but he’s just a kitty really.”  
“I am not,” said Alex in a growling monotone, “and have never been anything closely resembling a kitty.”  
“Could have fooled me. Take off your coat and relax a bit, will you? What time do you have to be home, Hank?”  
“I…I don’t really have a set time to be home.”  
Darwin grinned. “Rock and roll, man.”  
Hank smiled back, though Darwin had no idea just how completely un-rock and roll it was, because Hank was allowed to do pretty much anything he liked because his parents were convinced he was such a loser that he wasn’t ever going to take advantage of this in order to have fun, and his dad was away, and his mum would probably be too busy cooing over sage-coloured carpets to notice that he wasn’t back in his room, behaving more like a clam than a typical teenager.  
“Your parents must be pretty cool, then.”  
Hank shrugged. “They’re…they’re all right.”  
“I mean, I would have thought they were kind of pushy. Alex told me you were kind of a supergenius.”  
“Just when I was explaining to him why I couldn’t hang out tonight,” said Alex, because apparently he only addressed full sentences to him while saving his best friend or impressing on him just how little of a crap he gave.   
“Right. Um, thanks, I guess.”  
Alex nodded and scowled at the ground but Darwin rolled his eyes over his back, so he guessed he had a friend here.  
Hank wanted to ask if Shaw had ever found him again, or how long it had taken him to recover, or how badly he’d been hurt. He wanted to ask Alex – he wanted to ask Alex everything. But he was him, and all he could do was stay quiet and still and occasionally mutter something about schoolwork.  
“I’m going to get drinks,” said Darwin. “Alex?”  
“Beer.”  
“Hank?”  
“Um….just a water, please.”  
He half expected them to scoff at him, but Darwin just smiled and Alex stuck to the status quo and scowled at the floor.  
   
And then Darwin left and it was just him and Alex.  
Alex looked like if he could he would have cut a hole in the floor and escaped, he would have. Hank felt exactly the same.  
“Sorry about the project,” muttered Alex.  
“It’s fine.”  
“I just had to do something.”  
“I told you, it’s fine.”  
He slipped back into silence. Hank watched him out of the corner of his eye. He was shaking, like he was breathing hard, and his hands were balled into fists in the mattress. Hank had a feeling that if he put a hand on his shoulder it wouldn’t be pushed away. He didn’t, of course, because it was him and indecision was the status quo. But the opportunity was a start – though a start for what, he didn’t know.  
Alex’s neck was beautiful. Alabaster, finely sculpted, the bones casting shadows in the hollow of his neck.  
Then he laced his hand through Hank’s hair.  
The grip wasn’t tender. It was harsh and painful, and when Hank twisted his head to look at him his eyes were bright with something like anger. There was something harsh and possessive in the twist of his mouth, something that made Hank feel something almost like fear but not quite, a kind of jump in his stomach and a hitch in his throat, and Alex’s breath was hot and dry against his neck, and he was making a desperate little noise that sounded like it had teeth in it and Hank couldn’t think of what to do and what to say so he said “I remember you when you were seven.”  
Alex froze, and gently pulled his hand away. He thought for a second he was angry, but one look at Alex confirmed exactly the opposite. His hands were curled into fists, true, but only to dig the nails into his palms.  
Darwin entered, bearing drinks. Hank curled his fingers around his glass and hated his stupid mouth.

Sean was a wreck, so he dropped him off home and turned up at Raven’s house. She greeted him at the door with a silencing finger.  
“What’s going on?” he whispered.  
“Erik Lehnsherr is round.”  
“Ok. You know, I’m fairly sure he practically lives at your house.”  
“He’s in a bad mood. A really, really bad mood. Be very quiet all the time.”  
She pulled him past the kitchen, but not before Hank had caught a glimpse of what was going on inside. Erik was standing stiff as a board, eyes closed. The only sign he was still there was the hand that was gripping Charles’s hand until the knuckles went white.   
“What’s going on there?”  
“Lord knows. Their friendship is an eternal mystery. I’m just waiting for the day they have a big fight and Erik burns the house down.” She threw herself onto the bed and patted with her foot for where Hank should sit down. “So what happened?”  
“What?”  
“Ok, you go out for coffee with Alex Summers, and you turn up at my house at nine at night looking flustered and confused and surprisingly alive. What happened?”  
“Well, um… Sean turned up really high and Alex took him to Darwin’s house and then Darwin left the room and Alex kind of did a thing.”  
“What kind of thing?”  
“Like a… an angry thing?”  
“Alex Summers is an angry thing. You’re going to have to be more specific.”  
“He, like, grabbed my hair and his face got really close to mine.”  
“And then what?”  
“And then I told him I remembered when we hung out when we were seven and he dropped it and then Darwin came in and he didn’t speak until Sean woke up and he also didn’t kill me but he seemed kind of mad at himself.”  
“Do you know how adorable you are?”  
“Yes. I’ve been told every day for the past seven years. Now tell me what happened.”  
“Well, Hank, here on earth we have a custom known as “kissing”.”  
“What?”  
“Running his hands through your hair, getting all up in your face?”  
“Oh, no way, no way, no way.”  
“You nearly made out with the school hottie!” Raven had apparently decided to ignore her own warning, and was no cackling with laughter.  
“There is no way on earth that that’s true.”  
“Hey, scientist boy, consider the evidence.”  
“I examined the evidence more closely and reached a different conclusion.”  
“Look, just see how he acts around you tomorrow, ok?”

Hank was startled out of his studies when a pile of papers landed on the library table in front of him with an unceremonious thwack.  
Alex Summers shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, and made a half gesture at the notes. Hank nodded and half-mouthed, half-whispered his thanks. Alex hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked away.  
“He totally wants you,” whispered Raven.


	5. Communists and Capitalists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank tried to look menacing from behind his glasses, but gave up and just looked vaguely put-upon. It had taken Raven about three days after promising to keep the Alex thing “super super secret” for her to text Angel all the details, and as soon as Angel knew, Sean knew. He wasn’t quite sure how that worked, but the two of them seemed to have a weird kind of telepathy now. It was annoying. And somewhere along the line, Charles had found it, which led to the “I-know-I’m-not-your-brother-but-I-can-give-you-condoms” talk from Charles and “I-will-literally-fucking-slay-you-if-you-make-out-with-him” talks from Erik, because apparently he’d now been adopted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to update. I will work on not being awful and unpunctual.

The den had gone through many renovations and a little bit of fire damage in its time, but it was still there. They’d replaced the mattresses multiple times, changed the posters on the wall nearly every two months, and ceaselessly fended off the ever-encroaching nettles.

“You know,” said Angel. “We could throw a party here.”

“No we couldn’t,” said Raven. “It’s kind of a shithole. Also Erik and Charles say they need this place on weekends to bring girls here.”

Hank subtly shifted from the mattress to the floor.

“Don’t think that will save you, Hank,” said Sean. “With Erik Lehnsherr, no surface is safe.” He laughed delightedly while Raven made a disgusted face.

“No, that can’t be true,” said Hank. “They’d have to… you know… in front of each other.”

“Are you actually too shy to say the word sex, Hank?”

“Boys do that,” said Angel. “They don’t care. I think they compete.”

“Do you think those two will ever do it?” said Raven, gesturing at Sean and Hank.

“That would require them to get a date first, something that looks less likely with every passing day.”

“Hey,” said Sean. “I swear to god that Anne-Marie looks more interested in me with every passing day.”

“Yeah,” said Raven. “And Hank’s got Summers all lined up on the side.”

Hank tried to look menacing from behind his glasses, but gave up and just looked vaguely put-upon. It had taken Raven about three days after promising to keep the Alex thing “super super secret” for her to text Angel all the details, and as soon as Angel knew, Sean knew. He wasn’t quite sure how that worked, but the two of them seemed to have a weird kind of telepathy now. It was annoying. And somewhere along the line, Charles had found it, which led to the “I-know-I’m-not-your-brother-but-I-can-give-you-condoms” talk from Charles and “I-will-literally-fucking-slay-you-if-you-make-out-with-him” talks from Erik, because apparently he’d now been adopted.

Neither of which was particularly helpful, because Hank wasn’t sure he was gay, and even if he was he wasn’t sure he was attracted to possible sociopaths with a penchant for leather.

“I swear he dropped out of school for like, the whole of year eight,” said Angel.

“No,” said Raven, “it was only two months.”

“Why?”  
“I think his parents died?”

“No,” said Sean. “They died when he was six. In front of him. In a plane crash. It was brutal, apparently.”

Hank tried to control the multitude of hot flushes passing over his chest.

“Fuck,” said Angel. “That’s horrible.”

There was a long silence.

“What do you say after that?” said Sean, struggling to find some way to reverse the awkwardness he’d accidently created.

“Nothing,” said Angel. “It’s the five minute dick rule. You can’t be a dick about someone for five minutes after mentioning that their parents died.”

“I’m going to murder both my parents and use that excuse constantly.”

“You’re fucking dark sometimes, Raven.”

“I don’t get it, though,” said Sean. “Tough guy Summers is secretly gay.”

“Hey,” said Angel. “Good news for Hank.”

“Can someone please tell me when we all decided I was gay?”

“I don’t know, Hank. Maybe that time we took you bra shopping and you deliberately lost your glasses.”

“Doesn’t that just prove I’m a gentleman?”

“Honey, there ain’t no such thing.”

“Tough guys can be gay, Sean,” said Raven, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, anyone in that much leather is suspicious.”

“See, for one second I thought you were going to break free of stereotypes,” sighed Hank. “And then, no.”

“I made a valiant effort. Come on, sexuality crisis boy – “

“That sounds like the worst superhero ever.”

“ – we’re going to get you some chips.”

“Thank god.”

“And explain the basics of lube buying,” added Angel, looping her arm in Raven’s and laughing at coughing and spluttering Hank as they walked away.

 

Alex was waiting for him when he came out of school the next day. He wasn’t actually waiting for him of course – it was fate or something that was waiting, and Alex was just what they were using. He was trying to do something stupid with a lighter, and Hank was trying to pretend really hard that he wasn’t ignoring him and also wasn’t noticing, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he fell down the steps and straight into him.

Alex caught him and looked into his eyes, and for a second Hank once again caught that something that he had, that unthinking flash of instinct.

He had the vague feeling that Alex was panicking too, which was good because at the moment his thoughts were running along the lines of “oh god oh god we need to talk to each other but neither of us talk abort I repeat abort mission”.

Alex spoke first.

“Um, dude, the other day – “

Hank made a startled sound that was halfway between a mewl and a screech. Alex gave him a strange look.

“ – Your friend kind of left his shoe at Darwin’s house.”

Hank nodded. Alex stayed silent, so he guessed he needed a clearer show of comprehension.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They went back to silence.

“So, you know,” said Alex. “If you want it, I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Since when did Hank say cool? He never, ever said cool. But Alex gave a wide, sunny grin, like he was relieved that he occasionally did normal human teenager things.

“Give it to you at lunch?”

“Cool,” he said again, because it worked the first time.

Alex grinned again, and nearly went to slap him on the back but pulled his hands away.

Hank watched him go, gave a heavy sigh, and went round to Raven’s. He didn’t actually want to go – he had homework to do – but it was a matter of necessity.

When he got there, Erik Lensherr opened the door in an apron.

“Before you say anything, Hanklet,” he said, “I want you to remember that in a few seconds I’m going back to the kitchen where Mr and Mrs Xavier keep the big shiny knives.”

Hank gave a tiny, terrified nod.

“But,” said Erik, his face not shifting from his usual mask of slightly disappointed boredom, “if you would like to stay for spaghetti, you’re perfectly welcome, and I’m sure Raven would appreciate.”

Hank nodded again, and Erik gave a long sigh and finally let him in. In the kitchen, Charles was humming along to Mozart and trying to chop an onion with a knife that was far too blunt for such a job. Erik’s expression got slightly more disappointed.

Hank returned the cheery wave that Charles gave him and slipped past before he could say what cause the almighty crash that followed him.

“It’s creepy,” said Raven, appearing from the living room. “It’s like living in a 1950’s house.”

“Hello to you too.”  
“Except, like, the real version, not the Brady Bunch version. Like Erik is the father who’s all stern and stiff and foreboding, and Charles is the bored housewife who tries to clean and cook but actually just spends the whole day drinking endless bottles of wine.”

“Nonsense,” yelled Charles from the kitchen. “If I was a real 50’s housewife I’d have a valium habit as well.”

“And I’d be legally allowed to beat him,” yelled Erik.

“You know, in the right context,” said Charles, “that could be more fun than valium.”

Raven took a swig out of the bottle of white wine sitting on the coffee table and passed it to Hank.

“So what did Summers do?”

“How did you know it was Summers?”

“I didn’t. It’s just a guess. Though you were being extra awkward about sexual innuendoes, so that was a tip-off.”

“I’m so, so awkward naturally that I can’t believe I can actually get worse.”

“Hey, no changing the subject. What did he do?”

“He…”

“What? Kissed you? Asked you out? Handed you an unmarked brown envelope and told you to open it after school and when you did it was full of provocative photographs of him?”  
“What is wrong with you?”  
“A childhood with Charles. So?”  
“He, um…”

“What?”

“Spoke to me?”

Raven kept staring at him.

“What?”

“And?”

“He said he wants to speak to me tomorrow.”

“Right.”

“To give me some shoes. Actually, to give Sean some shoes. I don’t think he actually wants to speak to me. He just doesn’t want them anymore.”

She nearly fell off the sofa laughing.

 

Dinner with the Lensherr-Xaviers, as Raven insisted on referring to the evening, was both comforting and awkward. Comforting because watching Charles and Erik mock each other was something he was so used to that it felt homely now, and because the spaghetti was delicious. Awkward because tonight Charles and Erik seemed intent on making fun of him too.

“So, Hank,” said Charles. “I understand you need boy advice.”

“Oh my god, Charles,” groaned Raven.

“Shh, shh. Let Auntie Xavier help Hank. Look, do you know how many things “giving one shoes” could be a euphemism for?”

“I recommend you don’t do them at school though,” said Erik. “I don’t think you’d benefit from expulsion.”

“Hey, everyone needs something to do in their free periods.”  
“He’s in year ten. He doesn’t have free periods yet. If he wants to indulge his apparent psychopath kink, he has to wait until break.”

“I’m going to die,” said Hank. “All the blood in my body is going to rush to my face, and I’ll die.”

“I’m sure Alex Summers will get it rushing in the other direction,” said Raven, which earned her a high-five from Erik.

“You’re the family from hell, you know that?” said Hank, and Erik rested his arm on Raven’s shoulder and gave him one of those smiles that could double up as threats.

 

“So you’re 100% sure he’s gay?” said Angel, peeling a chip off a canteen tray and flicking it at Sean when he wouldn’t raise his eyes from her chest. “Because I swear to god he was ogling my boobs last period.”

“Everyone ogles your boobs,” said Raven. “Even I take a little ogle now and again. Ogle doesn’t sound like a word anymore. Ogle. Ogle. Ogle.”  
“Shut the fuck up.”

“You love me. Let’s get married and move to Canada.”

“Fuck that. We’re moving to Mexico.”

Sean sat up. “Mexico would be awesome!”

“You’re not coming,” said Angel. “It’s a marriage. It’s strictly two-person. Though we may adopt Hank.”

“Do I have to be adopted?”

“You’d die in two days without us.”

“Meh, I’d take care of him.”

Hank raised his eyes to source the unfamiliar voice, and there was Alex Summers, slouching over him, arms folded in a pose that said nothing could ever attack him. He wondered how he could look that confident, that sure. Then again, nothing preyed on lions.

Alex handed the shoes to Sean without looking up at Hank, but as he walked away Hank caught a glimpse of him in the canteen window, and there was a twitch in his lip that could have been a smile in someone who wasn’t Alex Summers.

“If you were in prison right now,” said Sean, “you could suck his dick for protection.”

“What the actual fuck,” said Raven.

“Hey,” said Angel. “It’s a hot thought.”

“Shut up, all of you,” said Hank. “Shut up at once.” He took off his glasses and polished them frantically, just for something to do with his hands.

But apparently he needn’t have worried, because after that Alex Summers apparently decided that he needed to forget all about everything, and four days passed of silence.

 

Raven called him at two in the morning.

“Wassssup?”

“Hank?”

He ruffled his hair and made an effort to wake up. She would only call this late if something was seriously up and he was the only person she could talk to. She needed him, he knew that, and he guessed that if someday he started dealing with his feelings in a healthy way then he might need her too.

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice sounded very small. “Can you come over please? Sneak up the window way.”

There was crashing and shouting in the background. “Raven, is someone there? Do you need me to call the police?”

“It’s just my parents aren’t here and Erik and Charles are having a fight and I’m a bit scared.”

By the time he’d pulled on some clothes and raced down the road, the Xavier-Darkholme house seemed quiet.  

Raven was curled up in her closet when he climbed through the window, a copy of Wuthering Heights splayed across her lap. She was wrapped in a hoodie Hank remembered leaving here, pulled up over her head so she just looked like a mound of blue fluff.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. Erik came over, and it was all normal but kind of weird, you know? Like Erik knew there was going to be a fight and had kind of resigned himself to it, and Charles was all kinds of frustrated and trying to keep his cool, and then he threw a glass at Erik and got slammed up against a wall.”

“And it all kind of got worse.”  
“And it all kind of got worse.”

Hank pulled a blanket over her shoulders. “Do you know where they are?” She shook her head, and he wrapped his arms around her, normally always too long but right now just the right length for hugs. For a few seconds it looked like Raven might actually be about to cry, but that was ridiculous.

Once Raven had fallen asleep and been gently carried to bed by Hank – who’d discovered too late the reason you occasionally need muscles – he checked downstairs. All was quiet.  Charles was curled up on the sofa asleep, a smashed bottle of wine on the floor next to him. Hank cleared it up, and draped him in a blanket.

How had the Xavier-Lensherr’s gone from spaghetti to this in four days?

He stood in the overly tasteful living room, watching the stain of wine he hadn’t been able to clean slowly spread into a £800 rug made from the wool of some brute-faced sheep from some mountains somewhere, wherever, and wished he knew what to do.

 

On the way to the bus stop the next morning (they’d left in the dark and hung around in the park, hoping to avoid Charles waking up), Raven grabbed his arm.

“Hey, hey. Wanna skive?”

“What do you think?”

“Haaaaank.”

“Raven! They can, you know…”

“What?”

“Expel us for skiving!”

“I know this great place where all the skiving kids hang out.”

“Oh, wow. A fun day out with the juvenile delinquents. Call up Dr Suess to offer him the book rights.”

“He’s dead, you asshole. Let’s go.”

He could just about see Sean’s little red head at the top of the hill, and a figure in knee-high black boots that could only be Angel.

With an exhausted sigh, he followed Raven down the hill.

 

“You _knew_ about this, didn’t you?”

Apparently Raven’s special place was a shady clearing in the thickets of the local park, and her idea of a good time was smoking seductively and eyeing up the boy smoking on the other side of the clearing, taking occasional swigs out of a bottle of pilfered wine that Hank resolutely refused. And apparently her day off just happened to coincide with Alex Summers deciding he needed to skive too. He was with the other boys, all of whom were checking out Raven, except Summers, who had decided to stick with the status quo and remain angry-looking.  

“He skives like 50% of the year,” said Raven, her voice growing slightly blurry now. “So it was like, a 75% chance.”

“I really hope that was a deliberate mistake.”

“Shhh. Have we ever made out?”

And before Hank could reply, she was kissing him, and for a second Hank forgot about the fact that this was Raven and she was practically his sister and he kissed her back. He felt her drop the empty bottle and he moved his hand to the curve of her waist and pulled her in closer.  He heard the conversation on the other side of the clearing stop. Was Alex looking at him? He desperately wanted to turn around and see, but at the same time this was his first kiss and there was Raven, putting a hand on his chest and then letting her fingers snake up around his neck. He had to be looking at him, even if nothing had happened at Darwin’s. No one could ignore them.

And wait, fuck, this was Raven.

He pulled away quickly and tried to ignore how drunk she looked, straightening her hair which he hadn’t even realised he’d been ruffling.

“So I guess you’re not gay,” she said, her voice slurring and far too loud for his liking. He cast a panicked look at the boys across the clearing. Alex wasn’t there. Alex had left. And here he was alone with drunk Raven and –

There was a hand on his shoulder and a voice that was heavy and golden and strong.

“Come on,” said Alex. “I’ll help you get her home.”

 

When Hank peered in on Charles, he was finally in his own bed, apparently still sleeping. Raven dropped onto the coach with a sigh.

“Is she going to go to sleep now?” Hank asked Alex.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “No. Do you want me to get her drunk enough for her to pass out?”

Hank tried not to look like he thought that sounded like a good idea.

“Haaaank,” moaned Raven. “Haaaank.”

“Go to sleep, Raven. Or stay there until you sober up. Or something.”

“I kissed someone so you have to kiss someone.”

Hank felt his cheeks burning. “Raven. Shut up.”

She collapsed into giggles and rolled off the coach again. Hank cast a desperate glance at Alex, and saw him giving him the same look that he’d seen Erik give Charles a million times – a sort of pitying desperation in the face of such uselessness.

“Go and get her a glass of water,” said Alex. “I’ll deal with her. And try and find the aspirin.”

Hank hadn’t seen the kitchen last night – he’d been too busy pacing restlessly around the dining table, trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with his life – so he stopped short when he saw the mess it was in.  Glass littered the floor, looking strangely dull in the flat light coming through the window. He stepped gingerly across the floor, trying not to look at the knife embedded in the walnut surface, and started searching for an unbroken glass. After five minutes, he finally admitted defeat and filled an old Tupperware container with water. Raven probably wouldn’t notice the difference.

“I was wrong – woah.” Alex stopped in the doorway, and stared around the kitchen.

“Erik Lensherr,” said Hank, trying not to feel ridiculous. He put down the water. Better, but he was still Hank.  Alex just nodded like he understood, and started working his way across the floor to Hank.

“Anyway, I was wrong. She did fall asleep. Massive lightweight.” He finally stood next to Hank in the one patch of floor that was clear and gave him a grim smile. “Cool friends, man.”

Hank tried to make a noise but his mouth was too dry and all that happened was his lips trembled slightly. Alex’s clear, blue eyes moved downwards towards his mouth, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to keep his arms firmly by his side and his feet in the same place.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Was this what people did? Had moments and then just moved on?

“You know at Darwin’s?” Hank really, really wanted him to move his eyes back up again, but instead they dropped lower, examining his neck, and he couldn’t stop watching the passage of those eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry if I freaked you out, man.”

“…Nah.”

“No?”

“No.”

Alex finally flicked his eyes back up, and gave him a smile like he’d never seen before, a smile that said they were the only two people in the world in on a joke. Hank would later blame the entire party on that smile.

“Hey,” he said. “We’re doing something on Friday. Down by the railway station. Want to come?”

 

“When you said “we”,” said Raven, trying to drag the slightly less skanky mattress out of the station door,  “Could you not have said “and by “we” I mean me, and by “something” I mean awkwardly trying to have sex with you.”

“Considering our evidence for him being gay so far is “he looked at me really hard”, I don’t think that would have gone done well,” said Hank, hoisting the other end up onto his shoulder.

“But it was _really, really_ hard,” said Sean. “If I supply weed, do I have to help?”

“Yes,” said Raven and “No,” said Angel at the same time.  There was a moment of intense silent glaring, something that now happened so frequently he and Sean had developed hand signals for it. It was one of the few running jokes he still had going with Sean, who seemed to drift more and more into an incomprehensible world of drugs and pain where he couldn’t follow him.

“Who else is coming?” he asked.  
“A few other people from our year,” said Angel. “Monet St. Croix, Lorna Dane, those weird fucking twins…”

“The incesty ones?” said Sean, “because I can’t decide if that’s fucked up or hot.”  
Angel mimed puking. Hank slightly felt like doing it for real.

“Charles,” said Raven. He saw Angel open her mouth to ask the obvious question and he shook her head.  
Charles had stumbled into school two days after the fight, cheerfully ignoring every question about Erik and his conspicuous absence. Once it became apparent that the water bottle he was liberally swigging out of was filled with box white wine, and that Erik was AWOL, the questions from students stopped. He knew Raven was still asking him what happened because he heard the shouting each time he walked past their house.

There was a tap at the door, and Angel peeked out from the window.

“Crap,” she said. “It’s him. It’s himmy him him. Why is he early?”

“Why are you pre-drinking?” said Raven.

“I wanted to be as drunk as Charles is going to be when he arrives.”  
“Shut up,” said Hank, and opened the door. Alex was there, shuffling awkwardly. He silently handed Hank a bottle of tequila and pushed past him. Hank took it and stared really hard in the exact opposite direction.

“Hi,” said Angel. “Nice to have you here.”

Alex nodded silently. This was a pattern with him – one day charming, the other day slipping in to these brooding silences.   
They all stood around and waited for someone to break the silence.

“Hey, Hank,” said Alex, after a while. “Thanks for inviting me.”

His mind went totally and utterly blank. A small piece of himself managed to search for sarcasm and find none, and then he was back in gear.

“Uh, no problem. You know, you were a help. The other day. And before that.”

Alex did his almost-smile thing and patted on the window-ledge he was perched on. Hank moved over and rested next to him as gently as he could, trying to keep a few millimetres of space between their arms. “I guess I don’t actually want you to get squished to paste. Though how many times am I going to have to save your ass?”

 

Pietro Maximoff was to blame, in retrospect, because it was he who suggested something called Skittle Bombs and  Charles who knew how to make them and that was when Wanda suggested they play True American and that was how Hank ended up in Alex’s lap as they both tried to fit on a tiny side table.  
“Hank,” said Alex. “Your friends are awesome. Why have I never stolen anything with them before?”

“If you lead my friends down the path of a dangerous criminal lifestyle I’ll come after you.”

“Ooh noo. He’s going to infect me with lameness.”

“I mean it. I’ll f-f-fuck you up.” He was stuttering, but he was also laughing his head off, and so was Alex, and this was nice.

He gave him a quick peck on the cheek and his heart stuttered too but then Alex was off again, leaping onto the mattress with a triumphant cry of “JFK” and then everyone was chanting “USA! USA!”  
Angel gave a small scream and launched herself across the room to land on another mattress with Angel, limbs tanged and hair falling everywhere, and then she bent down and kissed her deeply. Pietro cheered, and then everyone was cheering (and then Pietro threw money at the two of them and Charles punched him in the mouth but that was ok because Wanda calmed them down and it was kind of funny).

 

At 5a:m Hank found himself outside on the station edge, watching the sky slowly lighten. He felt a movement behind him and then Alex settled himself next to him.

“I remember the last time I was drunk and you turned up behind me,” he said quietly.

He thought he saw Alex smile-not-smile. “You know, I never expected you to remember that night. You were out of it, man.”

Hank twisted his face in a grimace. “It was—pretty memorable.”

Something darker passed across Alex’s face. “After that night – Darwin – “ He paused, and Hank thought he saw his eyes glitter. “He was kind of fucked up. Just lying in hospital for ages. Shaw really did a number on him.”

“What he did to Raven – “

“I know, man. I know.” He clenched the bars so hard his knuckles were white, and then her turned and his eyes were hard and bright and golden, like always, but they were also so, so sad.  
And then he kissed him.  
Hank kept his eyes open, which he was fairly sure he wasn’t meant to do, but then he closed them and then it was good and soft and exactly like it should have been. Alex pulled away with a soft sound and stared at Hank.  
“The sky’s nice at the moment.”  
Hank moistened his lips. “Yeah.”  
Alex looked away, and his shoulders heaved. “You know, it’s the same colour as your eyes. The light’s just beginning to enter.” He tipped his head back and made a sound that could have been a little sob. “You know, you and me – No one can – We can’t ever – It would just, you know that you’re going places and I’m going to prison and you’ll want things to make sense and I, I _don’t_ and – “  
Hank placed a finger on his lips.  
“Impossible differences,” he said gently. “Like communists and capitalists.”


End file.
